Stab at Love: Bid on Love: Bachelor #6

by Kristine Mason

  “I don’t think you brought me here for sex,” she said, and under his heated gaze, her confidence grew. “And you didn’t answer my question. How can you be certain you’ll be the last man to touch me?”

  “I just know.” His gaze took on that sinful glint again. “We just met, and yet you’re already drawing something out of me. I can’t figure out what it is, but it’s the same something that drew me to you last night. I need you to help me find out what it is or means.”

  She was struggling with the same thing. How could she be this attracted, this smitten, with a man she didn’t know? What was it about him that had her thinking about love at first sight and the possibility of a happy ever after? Although she didn’t have an answer, her head told her to be cautious. Men left.

  A knock came at the door. Neither of them flinched but remained as they’d been. Deadlocked in a strangely sexy staring contest.

  “Mr. Wolfe?” a woman asked.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Martha Washington. I showed you and Miss Ellis your rooms. Sorry to disturb you, but I forgot to mention that the dining room opens at five and the buffet is available until seven.”

  After he thanked her, the room grew silent again. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  Ivy shook her head.

  “Are you going to kiss me?”

  “I’m afraid of what will happen if I do,” she answered honestly. “I have two television screens in my mind. One shows us happy together, the other has a rerun of me alone and crying because I was easy and gullible, and listened to my heart instead of my head.”

  “I never liked watching reruns. And if you were easy or gullible, I would’ve talked you out of your emerald dress last night. Standing like this with you…it’s taking every ounce of willpower to keep my hands to myself. But I want us to go at your pace.”

  While his words were said with conviction, his voice was quiet, soothing, belying the tension radiating from his powerful body. No man had ever let her set the pace, and not just in bed. All of her past relationships had been on her partners’ terms, until she’d grown tired of being unhappy. Ash was giving her a gift, an opportunity, to possibly be happy again. If he continued to shower her with these types of gifts, she could end up head-over-heels in love by the time they left Williamsburg.

  “Thank you,” she said, and rose onto her tiptoes. Without touching him with any other part of her body, she brushed her lips along his, then gave him a chaste, yet lingering kiss. The moment their mouths met, a current of energy ran through her, electrocuting her butterflies, her senses. It stole her breath, and possibly her heart. As she leaned away, she met his confused gaze. “What’s wrong?”

  He touched his lips where she’d kissed him. “Not a single thing. Let’s go for a walk around the grounds and work up an appetite.”

  “I could use some fresh air,” she said, then stopped him at the door. “I know that was a simple little kiss, but was it okay?”

  “There’s nothing simple about what I’m feeling after kissing you.” His eyes darkened as he glanced to her mouth. “You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman.”

  “Then we should avoid walking in the woods.”

  He grinned. “What about the ghost tour?” he asked, opening the door. “Not only will we be in the woods, it’ll be dark.”

  “Hmm, that could be a problem. Especially if I get a little scared and need to hold onto you.”

  He took her hand and led her outside onto the giant porch, then down the steps. “I don’t have any problem with you hanging onto me. If anything, I’d be more concerned about you letting me go.”

  Was that another line? She wanted to believe he meant it, and that he didn’t lie, but past relationships made it difficult. His words were the stuff of daydreams, not reality. At least not her reality. But why couldn’t this be real? Why couldn’t his words be the truth? Who said love couldn’t be instantaneous?

  Grandma.

  But, Grandma had been insane, mad as a hatter.

  Not sure how to respond to what he’d said, she decided to change the subject. “Did you grow up in Norfolk?”

  “No, I’m originally from New York. Manhattan. But we also had homes in Vermont, California, Colorado and Florida.”

  “Also? As in at the same time, or did you move a lot?”

  “As in at the same time,” he said, his tone indifferent, cool.

  Still holding her hand, they strolled along a paved path leading them away from the mansion and the dozens of tourists and actors, and toward a gazebo. As the sun warmed her back, Ivy inhaled the sweet scent of the pink magnolia trees lining one side of the path. When they reached the gazebo, she stared at the large pasture, where sheep grazed and wild flowers bloomed.

  “You’re wealthy then?” she asked, not caring if she was being rude or if he had money or not. She had her own and wasn’t looking for someone to take care of her financially. Of course, she didn’t want to date someone who was lazy or couldn’t hold a job, either.

  “Extremely.” He walked toward the split rail fence sectioning off the pasture area. “Is that something you look for in a man?”

  “I don’t want to date a slacker, but money isn’t important to me. I have plenty. Not enough to own five houses at one time, though,” she added with a smile. “Siblings?”

  “Just me.” He leaned against a wooden post and looked at the sheep. “My dad died when I was three. I don’t remember him. Mother never remarried and had a steady string of boyfriends around to keep her busy.”

  “That had to have been uncomfortable for you.”

  “Not at all. I rarely saw her. I knew about the boyfriends because I would hear the servants gossip.”

  Confused, she studied him. “Why didn’t you see your mom?”

  “If I was in Manhattan, she would go to one of our other homes. If she decided she wanted to be a New Yorker for a few weeks, she’d send me from the Manhattan home to one of the others.”

  Talking about his mother had his spine becoming straighter and straighter, his tone cooler, almost icy. She couldn’t blame him. “You hate her, don’t you?”

  “It seems like a lot of wasted energy to hate someone who’s dead. Besides, I can’t blame Mother for not knowing how to raise a child. My grandmother treated her the same way. She didn’t know any different.” He faced her. “You look upset.”

  “I am. You were robbed of your childhood and teen years.”

  He glanced to the grass. “Those were good years.”

  “No lying,” she reminded him.

  With a sigh, he met her gaze. “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s in the past and no longer matters.”

  “Sure it does. The past shapes us. If you don’t want to talk about it, though, then don’t.”

  He took her hand again. “I wasn’t lying. There were a few good years. When I was seven, I thought for sure Mother was going to marry her boyfriend, Joseph. She even introduced me to him and let me stay at the house with them for the entire summer. Joseph must’ve realized she was a cold-hearted bitch because, by the time I was supposed to start school, he left. Without a word, he snuck out of the house during the middle of the night. Mother was devastated, too devastated to stay in New York with her son, so she went to California and found a new man.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to say anything else. It’s none of my business.” But she was glad he’d told her because it gave her a better understanding of him. Here was a man who’d been bounced from house to house, which meant he’d been either tutored or always going to a different school. In both cases, he wouldn’t have had many—if any—friends. And if Mother had never been around, who’d taught him about love?

  “I asked how many men you’ve had sex with, and that’s none of my business. So, go ahead and ask away.”

  She looked at their joined hands. “Who hugged and kissed you goodnight?”

  “My nanny was more of a mother to me than my own. She was a nice lad
y and was the one who gave me affection.”

  Although relieved someone had cared, his story made her sad. Angry, too. Children shouldn’t be ignored, but be treated with kindness and love.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Where are you from?”

  “Dayton, Ohio. But I’ve also lived in St. Louis and Atlanta. I moved to Norfolk a little over two years ago.”

  “I moved there around the same time. I’ve been thinking of making another move, but you might’ve changed my mind.”

  Because she hadn’t adjusted well to Norfolk, she’d also been considering a new city and state. “Depending on where you were thinking, maybe I’ll help you unchange it. I have no roots in Virginia,” she said, her tone teasing, even though she wasn’t. If things went well between them, she could do her job from anywhere.

  “I haven’t decided, but I was thinking of heading somewhere out west. I have a publisher who’d like to put together a book of my photos. I’d love to do a western collection.”

  “I love that idea.”

  “Of moving with me?” he asked, with an adorably sexy, crooked grin.

  “I don’t even know if you snore yet.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Oh? Have past girlfriends told you this?” she asked, fishing for information. What if this—the lines, the sprint into a serious relationship and all the talk about wanting to be her only one—was his usual method of operation? If he moved frequently, for all she knew, he could have a fiancée in every port.

  “There haven’t been any girlfriends.”

  “What? Seriously?”

  “I told you, I don’t lie. I have sex with women, and I don’t date them more than a few times.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Saying that out loud makes me sound like a real creep, huh?”

  She put an inch space between her index finger and thumb. “A little, but at least you’re an honest creep. Most men would’ve lied.”

  He laughed. “I’m glad I’ve got that going for me,” he said, his smile faltering. “And I guess you’re probably wondering why a guy like me, who’s had no interest in relationships, and who has never committed himself to anyone, is suddenly hell bent on convincing you to be his.”

  The hair on her arms rose as goose bumps coated her skin. The butterflies returned, and a wave of giddiness had her swaying toward him. “I didn’t realize that’s what you were doing.”

  “I was a neglected only child who was given whatever he wanted. I wasn’t taught to share, to obey rules or play well with others. I figured those things out on my own, but I can still be the child. When I see something I want, it becomes mine. When I saw you, one of the first words that popped in my head was ‘mine’.”

  Yes, it was a good thing she had no friends. They would most definitely tell her to run in the other direction. Based on what she knew about Ash, she suspected he would be possessive, and maybe domineering. He had an aggressive personality and she wouldn’t be surprised if he had a jealous streak. The men in her past had always set the tone for their relationship, but this guy would be different. Because this time, she would be his equal.

  “That’s a coincidence,” she said. “Because when I saw you, the first words that popped into my head were, ‘I’m going to make him mine.’”

  She gasped when he hauled her against his chest. Loving the heat and hunger in his eyes, she was thankful he hadn’t bothered with sunglasses.

  “If you don’t kiss me within the next two seconds, I promise I’ll not be a gentleman,” he said, his voice rough as his gaze slid to her mouth.

  “What if it’s a promise I’d like to have you keep?”

  He glanced to where the tourists were, then back to her. “Those people are going to get an eyeful of my ass. Because I want to bend you over and take you right here. Right now.”

  There was no amusement in his eyes, no hint he was joking. Instead there were promise, longing and lust. Her nipples hardened and she had the urge to rub her body against his. “I’m tempted to have you make good on your promise, but there’s something you should know about me. I wasn’t a neglected only child who was given whatever she wanted. And although I was taught to share, obey rules and play well with others, I choose not to and do what I want. Since, in my mind, I made you mine, no one but me will see your bare ass.”

  He lifted her, then set her on top of the fence rail. “Then you better kiss me. Your two seconds have come and gone.”

  She could hear her grandma’s voice. “Don’t do it, Ivy. This is dangerous. The man ain’t right in the head.” If that was indeed true, she didn’t care. She was used to crazy. Her family had a history of mental illness that had included both her mom and grandma, so chances were, she wasn’t right in the head, either.

  After she told Grandma to leave her be, she wrapped her legs around his lower back and her arms around his neck, then pulled him closer. He rested his hands along her hips. When his mouth was almost on hers, she held his gaze and brushed her lips against his. Then she used her teeth and gave his bottom lip a gentle tug. His eyes turned carnal, his grip possessive. Yet he showed no intention of taking over.

  Good. He was keeping his promise, letting her set the pace.

  Deciding this man was worthy of her trust, worth risking her heart, she licked the spot she’d nipped, then she kissed him.

  Chapter 4

  ASH’S SELF-CONTROL WAS threadbare. As Ivy pressed her soft lips against his, he wanted to take over, imprint himself on her, mark her, brand her, kiss her in a way to let her know he hadn’t lied. Whether she liked it or not, she was now his. No other man would ever touch her, he would kill anyone who ever tried.

  He let her coax his lips apart. Held still as she tentatively traced her tongue along his, tasted him, learned the contours of his mouth. Slowly, gently, she kissed him, drove him fucking crazy with the urge to grab a fistful of her hair and devour her lips. His body vibrated with tension, with the need to control. When she deepened the kiss, swept then curled her tongue around his, he gripped her hips tighter to keep himself from touching more of her. Not because they were where anyone could see them, but because he’d promised to let her take the lead. Hell if he’d make that promise again. If he had it his way—which he eventually would—they’d be in his room, naked and coming.

  More aroused than he could ever remember, his dick pressed hard against the fly of his jeans. Soon.

  Her breath fanned against his damp lips as she kissed the corner of his mouth. When he opened his eyes and met her gaze, icy fingers tiptoed up his spine. That unknown something returned, this time with a sledgehammer. It pounded against his heart, which beat too fast, and cracked it open a little wider. Even if an army of ghosts suddenly surrounded them, he couldn’t look away. Her affectionate eyes held trust and desire, respect and patience. For a decade, his favorite look in a woman’s eyes had been fear. After tasting Ivy’s lips and being looked at in a way that made him believe she genuinely liked him, he wasn’t sure how fear would look on her, or if he wanted to know.

  “How badly do you want to kiss me?” she asked, toying with the hair along the back of his head. “Your shoulders are incredibly tense and the V on your forehead keeps getting deeper and deeper.”

  “There are no words to describe what I want,” he replied honestly. He really didn’t know. Sex was obvious, but what to truly do with her?

  Kill her? Keep her?

  “Try.”

  With the way she continued to look at him, he doubted he could deny her anything. “I don’t want you to stop looking at me the way you are.”

  “How’s that?”

  “As if you like and care about me.”

  Her expression grew thoughtful. “Do the women you sort of date…are they interested in you, or the famous, sexy photographer?”

  He’d never cared to know until now. “Those women meant nothing to me. If they used me, it didn’t matter. I used them, too.” And there were several of them he’d killed. “Which Ash interests you?”

&nb
sp; “The one holding me.”

  Yes, the attic would be a good home for her. To add to her comfort, he’d also have a bathroom and kitchenette installed.

  “Good,” he said. “Because that’s who won’t let you go.”

  “How can you know this when you don’t know me.”

  As he gripped her hips tighter, she gasped and winced slightly. “Call it intuition or whatever you want, I just know. And before you ask, I’ve never wanted to keep a woman with me.” No, he’d spent his time trying to figure out what to do with their dead bodies.

  She kissed him again. Nothing hot and sexy, but playful, affectionate, familiar. “That makes me happy. I don’t want to run into exes who once meant something to you. I’m not normally a jealous person, but you make me greedy.”

  “Greedy?”

  “Mm-hm.” She kissed him again. “I want you all to myself,” she said, grazing her mouth against his. As she deepened the kiss, the dinner bell clanked in the distance. She grinned against his lips. “I almost forgot where we are.”

  He hadn’t and would never forget this moment, no matter what he did with her. He would never forget the adoration and trust in her eyes, the taste of her lips, her scent or the way the sun highlighted her hair. Even if he’d lost his mind, he doubted he could forget her words. No one had ever declared that he belonged to them or had wanted him all to themselves. Greedy had been an odd way to describe what she was feeling, but he liked it. That one word had him wondering what she would do should she have a cause to be jealous. How far would she go to keep what was hers? Would her eyes flash with molten rage? Would pink slashes cross her cheeks when her temper was high? Would she cut another woman down with barbed-wire-laced words, or would she grip the woman by the throat and threaten her with bodily harm?